All Good Things
by Syrianora
Summary: It takes two for hearts to beat, eyes to roll, hands to hold. But it only takes one to keep the secret.


**Title: **All Good Things

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Chuck and Blair.

**Summary: **It takes two for hearts to beat, eyes to roll, hands to hold. But it only takes one to keep the secret.

**Author's Note: **This absolutely would not leave me alone. Song is "Wild is the Wind", by Nina Simone. Set after the season 4 finale. CB, of course. Let's see if I can still do this.

* * *

><p><em>Love me, love me, love me<em>

It takes two for hearts to beat, eyes to roll, hands to hold.

It takes two for eyes to meet, hands to wander, a face be buried in between breasts and the throbbing at her curls.

It takes two for it all.

But it only takes one to keep the secret.

* * *

><p><em>Say you do<em>

She still remembers it at times. In the early of day, when the world is silent and the sheets feel as foreign to her as the tenderness in Eleanor's touch at her departing, she flits her eyes shut and remembers a glance, a pant, an arch of the back; a tear across porcelain in a gold-laced room.

Some mornings, she wakes up to his eyes before he surges in, before the pain and the familiarity and the rush and the heat and the "I will always love you" didn't become an everlasting echo.

On the days she is feeling most daring, her fingertips will press against the inner flesh of her thigh, the blue-gray mark graciously left behind weeping the blood vessels beneath. She doesn't dare to face the fact that the bruise parts her skin by mid summer, and she continues to press ferociously for a shock, a wince; an indication that it may have actually existed.

* * *

><p><em>Let me fly away with you<em>

She returns the week before Christmas, fingertips against the crisp frost of the cab window. The cab driver snorts, curses, shrieks, a staccato rhythm against the horn as he snails through New York traffic, but it goes unseen by the passenger.

All she sees is the worn tread by Bergdorf's, the steaming cocoa held between frigid hands; the pieces of herself in a city as foreign to her as the woman staring out the cab window.

* * *

><p><em>For my love is like the wind<em>

It is Cyrus who greets her, short and stout and arms wrapped entirely around her near-gone waist, that grin unmistakable even to her alien eyes. She turns as Eleanor takes a moment from preparations, before she sends her daughter up to her bedroom in a brush of a kiss, the gesture still as unusual to her as the moment it first happened.

It is only when pearl studs lace her ears that she realizes her hands are shaking.

* * *

><p><em>And wild is the wind<em>

It is an unmistakable sliver up her spine that has her lids shutting for a moment.

She grinds her teeth, flexes her fingers, and opens her eyes, watching as he simply regards her with a nod before turning back to his colleague.

It is only one stop to the restroom, one finger pressed against her inner thigh, that allows her to smile through the night.

* * *

><p><em>Give me more than one caress<em>

She watches him watch her; watches him remain in her vicinity, eyes catching him always as she greets her mother's guests and the crop of New York society as it welcomes her home.

And the chase becomes nearly effortless as she snakes her way from the parlor, past the doors, up the stairs.

In the quiet hallway, there is a most beloved welcoming.

It takes two for hearts to beat, eyes to roll, hands to hold.

This time, it takes two to keep the secret.

* * *

><p><em>Satisfy this hungriness<em>

He breathes against the skin of her neck, presses his toes against the skin of her calves, traces the curve of her ear.

It is summertime and the room is hot, sheets hanging off the corner of the bedpost, windows stretched and curtains still against the ill-present breeze. Trays of room service litter the carpet, his desperate need to fill the vacancy near her ribs translating into the remains of sweets and starches. His chest holds the markings of a mad woman, her nails ripping at the skin as he held her down and forced scones, syrup, dusted cocoa truffles down her throat.

She screams in his face, tears at his hair, slashes at the flesh at his back and finally runs into the shower stall. He is at her feet, always, always at her feet, when she slams the glass shut and taunts him with eyes locked with his own and one finger shoved down her throat.

He's soaking beside her by the time she blinks and yanks the finger from her mouth, pushing her up against the shower stall and locking her arm behind her.

"Tell me you love me."

She's gasping and raging and most certainly crying as he lifts her up, whilst she squeezes her eyes shut, and acquieses.

He laughs. It is a deep and throaty and so not of his character before he speaks, before he digs his fingers and leaves her seeing white.

"Then how can you do this to me?"

* * *

><p><em>Let the wind blow through your heart<em>

It is a late Friday afternoon when Serena sees them, tiny love bites trailed from the curve of a shoulder, down the expanse of her back and across the portruding ridges of her vertebrae, finally wrapping around her hip and halting above her curls. She hears Serena's gasp as she comes in, arms unconsciously tugging the silk of her robe over her body, depleting the evidence from Serena's sight.

The heaviness in those sapphire orbs becomes too much to bear, so she heads into the bathroom and locks the door behind her, fingers trailing down a particularly savage mark right above her sex.

"B, B talk to me," she hears Serena plead, the knocking to frantic pounding at the doorway making her head spin and palms grow hot.

He had been so ever tender that night.

She kneels on skin and bones and heaves.

* * *

><p><em>Like a leaf clings to a tree<em>

"This isn't going to last", he murmurs against her ear, her eyes catching his in the silent backdrop of a mirror in the hotel bathroom.

She is forced to watch wretched eyes regard her with as much respect as the memory of his tongue dipped deep within her sex.

"I don't want trouble."

It is a trembling degree laced with a hint of firmness that overcomes her. "I'm glad we have that settled."

Only when she tries to escape his body behind hers does his hand slip, slip far away from the memory of stolen kisses in limos and public kisses laden with colored gifts and vengeful kisses atop pianos and parting kisses in a raindrop scene.

It slips, and he drags, and she pulls, and he clamps one hand over her mouth and whispers about fiancées, broken promises, and the places where only he can make her purr.

* * *

><p><em>Oh my darling, cling to me<em>

She swears to him that she will not follow, but he smirks and pulls at her arm and leads her out the open window of the building. She attempts to run back and pleads for him to let her go, but it is all pretend, all the most spectacular show ever invented as he holds her tight and has her laughing within minutes.

He pulls her to the fields and water and aids her in disrobing from the white and pearls and lace of what should have been the most memorable day of her life. He taunts her to join him in the water, taunts her flesh to meet his and depart from the pounds of white fabric at her feet.

She steps into the water in her undergarments and swims and floats and has him at her back within seconds.

"I told you I wasn't going to let you go through with it."

She can only laugh as he smiles against her ear, presses a damp kiss at the base of the structure, lays her on her back to float.

His voice becomes fainter and fainter, and the water gets higher and higher, but she is smiling through it all.

* * *

><p><em>For we're creatures of the wind<em>

She awakens to a pair of clear gazing sapphire eyes and a thin tube pressed neatly at her wrist. Her lips feel chapped, and there is a numb pain every moment she breathes, a numb pressure that overwhelms her lungs and makes her feel lightheaded.

Serena's lips are shaking as she presses a kiss against her forehead. She hears words and senses movement and feels pressure at her throat.

"Razor blade knicks from her shoulder down her back... signs of starvation and perhaps regurgitation tendencies...severe, severe hypothermia when admitted...third admittance since suicidal attempt following Mr. Bass's death..."

"We're going to get you help," she hears Nate speak, but she can only watch Chuck as he approaches her bed and kneels towards her.

He brushes her hair with his fingers, rubs at her lips, smiles widely.

"I'm never going to let you go."

She smiles.

_fin._

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><p><em>Don't you know you're life itself?<em>


End file.
